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Show ( T2 JUST STUFF .' His white jacket now hangs in the ' closet, the blood pressure cuff sits on the shelf. No longer does a ; stethescope hang loosely around his neck and his black bag, cracked and worn with age, is tucked away. Dr. Worley has retired. He has always been Dr. Bill to me. .' He brought me in to this world some 241 years ago ' and he'i'bertfrtiy? doctor forever. When I was a baby he would carry me around the clinic, bare-bottomed on the palm of one of his hands, saying "Look at my little Peaches." I'm sure all little girls were "Peaches." I remember sitting alone in the, exam room waiting for the doctor. When I'd hear the "Clomp" of his footsteps in the hall. I'd know he was. coming. The door would swing open and in would walk Dr. Bill. After checking my ears, my throat and rny heart and doing all the other doctorly duties, he'd give me a bear hug before I'd go, so tight I could hardly breathe, then he'd send me on toy way, already feeling better. I remember hearing stories of having to go to Dr. Bill's for stitches. I guess I was as regular for his seamstress talents. And I remember him stepping by the house to visit my folks and how relieved I was to find he wasn't carrying a syringe. However, I do remember a few times being sick late at night or on a holiday and getting poked in the petuit in the privacy of my own home. Dr. Bill made house calls. He has worked endless hours, delivered countless babies, saved numerous lives and made hundreds fell better. And he's always been the one I'd turn to if I were really sick. Although he no longer wears his white jacket and there's no tongue depressor in his breast pocket, William Ft, Worley Jr. will always be Dr. Bill to me, and Richfield will truly miss him as a practicing physician. Good Luck, Dr. Bill! |